This is what happens when you find yourself not doing the school-run and think it a good idea to start the day with a brisk walk. And after fifteen minutes realise that a cup of tea was not a sufficient breakfast.
We thought that bread was ours!
Indignant dogs aside, I really should not have eaten their bread - pocket fluff of indeterminate origin does not taste good and the rest of the walk was spent with an even more loudly protesting come-on-!-you-can't-seriously-tell-me-that-was-all grumbling stomach. Plus the pulling out of bits of thread that had become wedged between my teeth.
Before I go on to 'other stories' - at the top of a field sheltered behind a hedge, we found a circle of twigs and dried grasses. The bed of a family of deer perhaps
Or nest of a giant goose (lots of geese on the move today)
Or a dragon cushion - sadly Littlest was at school: I'm sure she would have known - probably a fairy something-or-rather. Whatever it was, it clearly smelt good. Not even the remaining fluffy bread could tempt Four-legged-friend and Bertie Baggins away. The nest will smell far too strongly of dog for whatever it was to venture back tonight.
Other stories? ... in essence, one story, that of my appraisal: the appraisal that has to be completed by mid-November, that has to be done annually, that every year I promise myself I will not leave to the last minute, that this year I will not be paid for completing but still have to do, that is so brain-addling that I am over-over-dosed on caffeine, and that is so repetitive so repetitive so repetitive that I wonder if anyone really reads what is written or simply ticks the box to say 'Yep! It's been done.'
Hmmm ... okay, so there is a point to doing these things. And that point is the MSF - a terrifying invention whereby your colleagues provide you with anonymous feedback. How threatening is that!! Hideous. Except ... I suppose it is something from which we could learn. Or perhaps take encouragement. Or that might hammer the nails into the coffin of our careers, or push us off the precipice into another entirely different non-appraised career.
But in reality is any career not appraised. The brilliant (who would have guessed?!) Grayson Perry spoke this morning about how art is judged to be good. (Reith lecture, BBC Radio 4). In essence, the public, art curators and collectors appraise an artist via the statement of whether his work sells or not. It's the same with writers - if their books sell well, clearly they are appraised to have written well. Are tradesmen's references really any different to formal appraisals and aren't those of us working in health really just the tradespeople of the NHS?
I procrastinate as per ...
Back to the appraisal and dogs whose collaborative Multi Source Feedback of the Aga is entirely positive and displayed generously with their body language
That they compete to be closest to the heat, daily reinforces the positive feedback and strength of their feelings.
We thought that bread was ours!
Indignant dogs aside, I really should not have eaten their bread - pocket fluff of indeterminate origin does not taste good and the rest of the walk was spent with an even more loudly protesting come-on-!-you-can't-seriously-tell-me-that-was-all grumbling stomach. Plus the pulling out of bits of thread that had become wedged between my teeth.
Before I go on to 'other stories' - at the top of a field sheltered behind a hedge, we found a circle of twigs and dried grasses. The bed of a family of deer perhaps
Or nest of a giant goose (lots of geese on the move today)
Or a dragon cushion - sadly Littlest was at school: I'm sure she would have known - probably a fairy something-or-rather. Whatever it was, it clearly smelt good. Not even the remaining fluffy bread could tempt Four-legged-friend and Bertie Baggins away. The nest will smell far too strongly of dog for whatever it was to venture back tonight.
Other stories? ... in essence, one story, that of my appraisal: the appraisal that has to be completed by mid-November, that has to be done annually, that every year I promise myself I will not leave to the last minute, that this year I will not be paid for completing but still have to do, that is so brain-addling that I am over-over-dosed on caffeine, and that is so repetitive so repetitive so repetitive that I wonder if anyone really reads what is written or simply ticks the box to say 'Yep! It's been done.'
Hmmm ... okay, so there is a point to doing these things. And that point is the MSF - a terrifying invention whereby your colleagues provide you with anonymous feedback. How threatening is that!! Hideous. Except ... I suppose it is something from which we could learn. Or perhaps take encouragement. Or that might hammer the nails into the coffin of our careers, or push us off the precipice into another entirely different non-appraised career.
But in reality is any career not appraised. The brilliant (who would have guessed?!) Grayson Perry spoke this morning about how art is judged to be good. (Reith lecture, BBC Radio 4). In essence, the public, art curators and collectors appraise an artist via the statement of whether his work sells or not. It's the same with writers - if their books sell well, clearly they are appraised to have written well. Are tradesmen's references really any different to formal appraisals and aren't those of us working in health really just the tradespeople of the NHS?
I procrastinate as per ...
Back to the appraisal and dogs whose collaborative Multi Source Feedback of the Aga is entirely positive and displayed generously with their body language
That they compete to be closest to the heat, daily reinforces the positive feedback and strength of their feelings.
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